“Never let her wings touch the ground”
My friends all say that country songs are about nothing more than alcohol, dogs, cheating significant others, hunting/fishing and of course, the truck. I see country music differently. I grew up country, and there's no changing that. My dad even wanted to be a country star, so I guess that's where I got my slight country twang from when I sing. Yet, I did used to agree with my friends... there was no meaning behind country songs, they were just cowboys singing around the campfire. It wasn't until my mom came home one day and made me listen to “She's A Butterfly” by Martina McBride that I started really finding reason behind the lyrics.
My mom started saying that “She's A Butterfly” was my song, and described me perfectly. “You're so strong and wont let people bring you down” she used to say when I asked her why this song was about me. I guess that's true. I've been through a lot in my life, possibly more than some eighteen year old people. I don't regret anything that has happened though, it all made me who I am, and I don't want to change that.
As the first lines say “she remembers when she first got her wings and how she opened up that day, she learned to sing”, these lines hit home for me last year. I used to hide behind people because I thought they'd be better at standing up for what is right. I'd stand behind this person that I used as a shield, I'd say I was there for “back up” when really I was there being terrified and not having the guts to stand up for myself. I think it was that thought of “if they're willing to do this for me, why should I stop them” that kept me there for those seventeen years. It wasn't until the person who was supposedly standing up for me, made me sound like I wasn't able to do anything for myself that I finally spoke out and spread my wings.
I was going to show my friend my newly painted room at my dad's house, and when I walked in one wall of my blue room was covered in posters. I knew I didn't put them there, so I took them down. Hidden behind the mess of posters was a off white mess of paint. I was beyond mad. I walked my friend home, and got a call from my mom. She was going to be up at my dad's and we were going to figure this out. When I got back to my dad's I sat down on my bed staring at the wall. “I thought Carly did it, so I didn't think anything of it.” my dad said to try to defend himself as to why he didn't stop his girlfriend from doing this. How much I wanted to yell and scream at this because I knew it was a lie just so he could protect her over his own daughter... all I could do was sit there and cry as the anger built inside me.
I heard the door close, my dad's girlfriend was home. “I'm not moving, she can come in here so she can't hide from what she did.” I said as calmly as I could. She still avoided it, she had to make a phone call, then her mom called, then she needed to smoke, anything to keep from getting in trouble. With waiting for about an hour and a half, and having the anger build inside I was done waiting. I heard the TV turn on in the living room. My mom went out there and turned it off, they had an immature game of turning the TV on and off until my dad went out there and turned it off. I heard her lies and excuses enough to where I felt steam was coming out of my ears. I stormed out there and sat in the chair across from her, looked her in the eyes and asked “do you wanna try that again?”.
She went as far as to say that my mom and I stole the spare key, came in and painted my room, covered it with posters just so I could blame it on my dad's girlfriend. At this, all I could do was laugh because my dad had found the “missing key” on the front step next to a pack of cigarettes. She was busted and she knew it, but she was never going to own up to it. This was when I guess I spread my wings. She started using my past as reasons I would have done this. “You know nothing about me, you know nothing about my family, and you know nothing about all that I have been through in my life. How dare you take advantage of everything that my dad who has done everything for you. He even stands up for you against me!” I had finally burst. I couldn't hold the anger in anymore. I know what I said had hurt my dad, but it was true.
I had finally learned that I'm strong enough to spread my wings and be my own person. It was incredible, and scary but I was tired of having everyone stand up for me. I had finally realized I was a butterfly, ready to spread my wings and not let anything bring me down.
After finding out how strong I actually am, I re-listened to the song, and now every time I hear it... I think of everything I have been through and know that anything that is laid before me, I can over come. My mom always quotes “God bless the butterfly, give her the strength to fly. Never let her wings touch the ground”. This line is always great to hear when I'm not sure I can make it through whatever is happening at that moment. Listening to this song reminds me I can.
With this song meaning so much too me, I had to incorporate it into the tattoo I wanted. I had been dreaming of this tattoo and drew it out many times but it never felt finished until I added my butterfly. Originally the tattoo was just a crescent moon and a star above it. Each signifying one of my grandfathers. About two weeks ago, when I was about ready to give up on UNLV and fly home, I got on my facebook to my mom quoting the line on my wall. I pulled out my sketch of my tattoo and added a butterfly between the moon and the star. My tattoo finally feels finished.
“She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky. Nothing's ever gonna bring her down, and everywhere she goes everybody knows she's so glad to be alive. She's a butterfly.” Though I've had those hard times in my life where I thought that nothing good was going to come out of it, and though I feel like I was forced to grow up much to quick. I'm still happy with the life I live, and there's nothing that is going to keep me from my dream. I'm a butterfly, still growing my colors and finding out whats going on in this crazy world.
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